


Spin Cycle

by m_phoenix (liminalsmith)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Ficlet, Laundry, Post Chosen, btvs, buffy - Freeform, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminalsmith/pseuds/m_phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Spin Cycle.<br/>Author: M Phoenix<br/>Email: Foxtraveller28@hotmail.com<br/>Pairing: Buffy/Faith<br/>Word Count: 293<br/>Author’s Notes: Ficlet for Nemo (aka Freudianslipper) who challenged me to write happy Fuffy, absolutely no heart-rending, or character death allowed. Well I tried, this is without doubt the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written, but I don’t think it comes naturally. <br/>Rating: PG-13<br/>Disclaimer: Joss, not me. Damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spin Cycle

**Spin Cycle  
by M Phoenix**

Somewhere between the plaintive beeping of the washing machine ending its cycle, and the hauling out of one load and cramming in of the next. Somewhere in the low, conversational sorting and folding of faded cotton; their fingers brush, mesh, hold, and suddenly they are pulling, falling at each other like leaves in a storm. Tumbling against the hard tiles of the floor and the soft, clean warmth of clothes fresh from the drier. Buffy and Faith. Faith and Buffy; tangled, urgent and breathless with the bottled scent of summer meadows, and each other. Rolling and laughing as they scatter shirts, pants, socks to the four corners of Giles’ utility room; and the grey, English rain patters at the windows, and cannot touch them.

Big, empty house. The next generation of Slayers fieldtripping their way through ‘London Below.’ Hours, years, since Faith’s sleepy, morning, grin, and wandering, morning, hands. Since Buffy’s half-hearted protests, and full throated moaning. They have time, pulses, working limbs; and skin against skin is all that matters. Faster, harder, more, please, yes, more; until as they cry out, bodies arching, aching and blessed; they finally find the ‘maybe,’ between yes and no. The squiggle where the yin and yang meet. And now, in this endless moment, when they stare clear-eyed into each other, they see themselves gazing back. 

The washing machine beeping. Cycle over. Next…

Buffy laughs, loose and easy, sprawled on Xander’s best shirt. She reaches round to peel a limp sock from where it’s stuck to Faith’s ass. Faith kisses her, one more time, teasing, gentle, then surveys the room. “Er, I think the laundry exploded. Guess that means we’d better start over.”

“Yeah,” Buffy murmurs, smiling, drawing Faith back into her arms, “I guess it does.”

The End.


End file.
